


Losgar

by silvertrails



Series: First Age Arc [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Caranthir feels the moment when Amras falls into the sea as the ship where he was sleeping burns.





	Losgar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenni4765](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni4765/gifts).



**Losgar  
** By CC  
December, 2018 

I make no money with this. I’m only having fun writing the stories. 

This is a triple drabble for Jenny-Blog, who wanted Tolkien, and Caranthir. Happy Holidays! =)

* * *

Carnistir was burning one of the ships along with Curufinwë when a scream in his mind blinded him. He fell on the ground, the torch rolling away as he struggled to get his mind under control. 

_He was burning, falling through the deck, hair and clothes afire. The ship’s hull gave way and the icy waters claimed him. He called for Pityo, but his twin could not hear him, and then his mouth filled with water, his lungs burned, and the sea took him._

“Moryo!”

All of a sudden he was out of the water, and the smell of the burned ships, and the smoke brought Carnistir out of the vision.

“Telvo was in a ship!”

The horror in Curufinwë’s eyes mirrored Carnistir’s. Pityafinwë was screaming and rushing toward the sea, only to be stopped by Káno while Maitimo and Tyelkormo braved the waters under the burning ship. 

“Help me up…”

“They will bring Telvo,” Curufinwë said. “They have to…”

And then Fëanáro himself was in the water, and took Telvo’s body from Maitimo’s arms. 

“Put him down, sire,” Nesthae said. “Let me help him.”

Fëanáro rested Telufinwë on the sand, and Nesthae started to press his chest and breathe into his mouth. It seemed a long time before Telufinwë started to cough water, and the healer turned him on his side so he spilled the rest of it. 

“He is alive,” Fëanáro said. “His hair will grow back, but he is alive…”

“What does it matter if his hair is gone?” Pityafinwë exclaimed. 

“I thought I had killed him,” Fëanáro whispered, and gathered Telufinwë in his arms. 

Carnistir looked at their father. The madness was gone from Fëanáro’s eyes, but his hold on sanity was tenuous. 

“Telvo is alive, Father,” he said. “Fear no more for his life.”


End file.
